


Daydreaming

by Anonymous



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Exhibitionism, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Multi, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Subspace, Threesome - F/M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 02:06:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "We should just ask him," Bev says, bold enough to just say it, "worst case scenario is we make it awkward for a while. Right?"
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon/Beverly Marsh, Mike Hanlon/Kay McCall
Comments: 10
Kudos: 33
Collections: Clowntown Kink Meme 2021





	Daydreaming

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [clowntown2021](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/clowntown2021) collection. 



> **Prompt:**
> 
> Mike makes a stop in Nebraska to visit Ben and Bev during his post Derry 2.0 road trip. They decide to show their appreciation by treating him to a good time. Have fun with it! Let Ben and Bev share Mike, let Bev peg either Mike or Ben or both! 
> 
> Ben has that big modern house full of windows so why not let Mike fuck Bev pressed up against the glass while Ben watches from outside? Throw some double penetration or spit-roasting in there for a little flavor. 
> 
> Then they can all cuddle in bed after and read a book.

Bev's thought about all the Losers at one point or another, because of course she has - they're all stunningly beautiful in different, unique ways, hot in the way your strange, intense friends are hot, attractive mostly because she knows who they are and loves them intensely for all her own weird little reasons. Stan has nice hands and Bev likes the way he looks at her sometimes, skeptically, like he's not sure if she's teasing him or not (she usually is). She imagines him as very generous, maybe a little bashful, in bed, thinks about his hands around Patty's slim, bare waist, kissing her neck, holding her head gently as they make love. Eddie would be a little more impatient, Bev thinks - skipping steps here and there, and then drawing back in surprise when his partner's not right there with him, keeping stride like he expects them to. _Come on,_ she imagines him saying, because she likes Eddie's voice the best. _We don't have much time. Take your bra off already, it's not like I haven't already seen it._

Richie's arms are strong, as strong as Ben's even if he's not as obvious about it, and Bev likes to think about him lifting her up, in a shower or a pool, laughing with his face buried in the back of her neck. She thinks he'd like it most when she would be bent over something, she thinks he would maybe pull her elbows back and call her names while he gives it to her hard, and he'd be so casual about it Bev wouldn't even be embarrassed the next morning like she is sometimes when she and Ben get a little rough. And sometimes, maybe (sometimes often, if she's honest) she thinks about the different combinations - Ben holding her hair back gently as she sucks Eddie's cock (impatient vs. patient - interesting), maybe Richie and Stan playing rock paper scissors to decide who gets her mouth and who gets her cunt, maybe Stan and Ben going down on her at the same time while Patty watches (Patty's definitely a watcher - she probably takes notes) maybe Richie and Eddie together, with all their whirlwind angst and intensity, rolling around on her bed while Bev touches herself against the headboard. Whatever. It's all just fantasy, right? She tells Ben about it sometimes and he seems to think it's hot too, even offers adorably pedantic suggestions like _I don't think that would feel good without lube_ and _are you sure that's anatomically possible?_ (Although she usually omits Bill and Audra from these conversations, for obvious reasons. She's pretty sure he appreciates the gesture.)

"You wouldn't ever - would you?" Ben asks one night, in that tentative tone he gets sometimes that makes her feel crazy because she feels like she has to tiptoe through the conversation lest she hurt his feelings. She bristles, but counts to five before she answers, because she's been working on it. 

"For real? No," she says, "it's just - you know. Jerkoff stuff."

"No, yeah obviously," Ben says. He looks contrite, but he doesn't apologize, which is also a positive step. Surprisingly enough, the couples therapy has actually been helping. "I just meant - if the opportunity ever arose…"

Bev blinks, and presses her thighs together. Is he really _asking?_

"And like, not with Stan or Patty," Ben continues, "they don't really seem like the type. But Richie, maybe. He seems a little...lonely."

"I don't think he's really that into women," Bev says carefully. She inches a little closer to him on the couch, feeling the drowsy beginnings of arousal, like a gentle fog falling down around her head. Ben doesn't talk much in bed but when he does, she always feels like she's gonna die. Once he said _just like that, baby, you feel so tight around me_ right as she was coming and she swears to everything holy she saw the light of Heaven. "I know he's dated a few, but I don't know..."

"Me and him then," Ben says. Bev's jaw drops. "He flirts with me sometimes. Not in a serious way, but you know, still...I'm just saying, maybe."

"I didn't," Bev stammers for a second, shivering a little when he reaches out and touches her bottom lip with his thumb, his other arm slung casually across the back of the couch, his t-shirt stretched tight across his shoulders, grinning a little to himself. There are bags beneath his eyes and his hair is getting grayer, especially around his temples, but the age is settling easily on him, beautifully. He looks like a Hallmark movie. He looks like every daydream Bev ever had between the ages of thirteen and forty-one. He looks like the love of her fucking life. "I didn't know you liked men...like that."

"Well, I've never done it before," Ben says with a cute little shrug. "You would tell me what to do. So I wouldn't embarrass myself. Right?"

"Oh my God," Bev says mindlessly, and practically pounces on him. There's not much discussion of the subject after that. At least not on this particular night. 

This is a very exciting development for their sex life: the leap to hypotheticals. They always spend Christmas with Ben's mother but New Year's is a Losers holiday, spent in whatever city is closest to the highest number of people at the same time, which usually ends up being New York. Richie has an apartment there with a guest room, which he generously offers to Ben and Bev, joking the whole time about a teddy bear nanny cam so he can finally get his pornography empire off the ground. This is a joke that would be tasteless coming from someone that Bev honestly thought wanted to fuck her (or wanted to fuck her boyfriend. Or both), but since it's _Richie_ , it's just kind of gross and funny and anyway, Ben clearly finds it a little hot and bothering. He's twitchy and a little nervous all through the party, and when they finally drunkenly stumble to bed around 2 AM, he crowds her against the edge of the bed and whispers, "do you think he's watching? From his room?" and Bev's knees go fucking weak. 

It's a fun way to get Ben to loosen up a bit, she discovers. He has a little bit of a voyeur thing, or maybe an exhibition thing, or maybe a light combination of both. He's too shy for anything more intense - filming her in bed, taking photos, fucking in public places, even trading nudes makes him a little uncomfortable - but the dirty talk is enough. Bev covers his mouth with her hand to muffle his groans as they fuck their way into 2019 and murmurs in his ear: _he's touching himself as he watches us. He can see how much you want me, how hard you are, and it's making him hard. God, Ben, he wants us so bad, if he were here he'd hold me down while you fucked me and he'd get off just on touching our shoulders,_ and Ben comes so fast and hard his face goes bright red and he falls right down on top of her, unable to even hold himself up long enough for her to rub off against his hip like she does when he's too worked up to last. 

(The next day, they wander sheepishly into the kitchen to find Richie sitting at his kitchen counter, hilariously unamused. "God. Fuck you guys," he says, and Bev laughs so suddenly she almost chokes. "Three times? _Thrice_ in one night? You don't have to fucking _rub it in._ " But he makes them pancakes right afterward, so really, it's not that big of a deal.)

Is it weird? Maybe. Patty and Stan come to stay with them at Ben's mother's place in Omaha over a long weekend in April, and Ben and Patty have a weirdly intense fondness for each other that's based mostly on their mutual love for 1970s sitcoms, so Bev and Stan spend two days at the art museum while their soulmates marinate in reruns on the couch, buying each other lunch at the pretentious little cafe and walking arm-in-arm through the galleries. Stan teases her about how fancy she looks in her nice dresses; Bev teases him right back about the gel he's started wearing in his hair. They get into an intense debate about impressionism and wade through the fountain in the sculpture park in their bare feet. Bev posts a photo of Stan sitting on the grass with his socks and shoes in his lap on Instagram, and Bill comments almost immediately: _quick: cover his ankles! Before his wife sees this!_ It's a really nice couple of days. 

"They thought I was his mistress," Bev gasps into the mattress, the night they leave, as Ben fucks her over her full sized body pillow, a birthday gift from Patty that's was intended to be lumbar support after her knee surgery last year but in practice has mostly turned into a sex prop. "They saw his wedding ring and - fuck, yes, there - that I didn't have one on, and - I wore that dress you like - there was this docent and he definitely thought - _oh_ shit - "

A little weird, yes. Still, what's the harm in a fantasy? There are creepier ones they could be indulging in. Most of the Losers would probably think it was funny, anyway. 

"Eddie wouldn't," Ben says with a laugh, sweat sparkling on his chest. Bev loves him when he's like this - loose-limbed and relaxed, happy, his eyes sparkling. When they first got together she thought he would be either one of two things: selfish in the way that men tend to be when they get what they want, pushy in a nice way so that she didn't feel like she ever had the option to say no. (An ungenerous thought, maybe, but Bev had reasons to be wary, she tells herself.) Thank God he's a stronger man than that - and thank God he's not shy either, not in the way she'd been considering for option two: too nervous to ask for things, or tell her how he feels. No, he is shy, but in a sweet way - and he asks for things, he just blushes as he says it. Bev doesn't mind that. She likes that he's a little more buttoned up than she is. It makes her feel wild, and beautiful, and a little powerful. "He'd be horrified."

"Oh God, no, Eds would never look me in the eye ever again," Bev agrees, giggling. She shivers, shifting her weight against the bed, feeling their bare skin sticking together pleasantly beneath the cool sheet. "Richie would be embarrassed too but he'd pretend like he wasn't."

"Stan and Patty would definitely laugh," Ben says easily. 

"Bill would get all concerned," Bev says, a little wary to be bringing him up, but Ben just laughs and agrees. "And Mike - "

They both go still, struck together at the same time, by the image. Oh, fuck. _Mike._

Ben reaches over and slowly pulls her hand up to his mouth, sucking her thumb into his mouth and biting gently at her skin. Bev feels her eyelashes flutter, her stomach dipping low, wobbling back and forth like a flag in the wind. 

"He would like it," Ben says, his voice scraped thin and rough. "Don't you think?" 

Bev closes her eyes and thinks about it. Mike with his square jaw and thick waist, Mike who sends Bev dirty jokes every once in a while, when the mood strikes. Mike, who dated her business partner for eight months last year, and after they broke up politely declined to discuss details, but didn't deny it when Bev told him Kay got drunk at Fashion Week and started crying about how she'd never find a man with a cock that big ever again. _It's true, though, isn't it?_ Bev had teased him. Mike looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a non-smile on his face, and shrugged. _Oh fuck, it is true._

"Yeah," Bev says, gasping when Ben pulls her hand down away from his mouth and down between her own legs, guiding her fingers gently but forcefully. He does this sometimes, uses her own hand as a prop to touch her, and it always makes Bev feel _crazy._ Like a woman in an 80s movie, rediscovering her own sexuality. Like Joan Allen in the bathtub. "Yeah, he'd like it."

"He'd want to hear all about it," Ben says, low and gravelly in her ear. "He'd want us to tell him."

"F-fuck," Bev stutters, and claps her free hand over her own mouth. (Yeah, he would. Mike absolutely would. This should be a somewhat intimidating thought, but somehow, like everything else in Bev's new life, it doesn't scare her at all.)

Mike spends a lot of time with them, is the thing. He didn't like Florida much, as it turned out, and he wasn't big on Texas either. He spent six months or so wandering around Canada before he announced, unceremoniously on a group Skype call, that he never wanted to see a snowstorm ever again, to which Bill responded by promptly demanding Mike's presence at his film shoot in LA. It was there that he landed a job with some big time somebody at Warner Brothers, consulting on horror movies ("Ironic," Richie commented, "but perfect.") and now he spends roughly three weeks out of every month on the houseboat Ben keeps docked in North Carolina, near the little cottage they live in whenever Bev's not working. He's been writing movie scripts, he says. Also a book. Sometimes he calls in to Richie's podcast from Ben and Bev's front deck. (He's very popular with Richie's nerd-adjacent, elder millennial audience, unsurprisingly.)

He hasn't dated anyone since Kay, or if he has, he's been subtle about it. Ben travels more than any of them, for work, but Bev spends a lot of time in New York too, especially during the busy season. It's possible he could be having torrid affairs whenever they're not there, but Bev doesn't think so. He's grown a bit quieter, in this peaceful semi-retirement. He accepts their hospitality and (guilt) money without even flinching, not because he feels like he deserves it, but because he knows it would make them all feel worse if he didn't. He enjoys his life, he says. Bev watches him sometimes, when he descends from the boat and joins them for takeout on the living room floor, or Audrey Hepburn marathons on three-day weekends, and she sees how lovely he looks, how calm and at ease he is in his own skin, and she thinks: _he's the best man I'll ever know. What a privilege it is, that he loved us so much._

"We should just ask him," Bev says, bold enough to just say it, "worst case scenario is we make it awkward for a while. Right?"

"Ask him to do what," Ben replies carefully, watching her, a little warily, over his plate of eggs benedict. She'd fucked up the yolks again, cooked them for too long, but turns out he likes them over-hard, and he doesn't mind when she makes really bad dirty jokes about the term either. The perfect man, really. "Watch? What are we saying here, sweetheart?"

Bev props her chin in her hands and looks at him for a moment. "You're not a jealous person," she says. "Not usually."

He blushes a little. "I - "

"It bothers you, about me and Bill, because it reminds you of being a kid, right? When you felt like nobody saw you."

"You always saw me," Ben says quietly, holding his knife tightly in one hand. "That's why I liked you so much. You never made me feel like that."

Bev melts, figuratively and literally, leaning far across the surface to take his hand. He drops the knife and takes it easily, squeezing it tight. 

"It'd be different with Mikey," Ben says softly, after a trembling moment. "He loves us. Not that Bill doesn't, but Bill - "

"It's different," Bev agrees, thinking about Audra. 

"I trust Mike a little more." Ben makes a face. "Sorry, that sounds bad. But it's true."

"No, I know. Me too," Bev says. "And I love him differently, than how I love Bill. I know you do too."

Ben nods, folding his free hand around their clasped ones, cradling her fingers between both palms. He rubs the back of her knuckles with his thumb, gently, thoughtfully. Bev's so in love with him she feels like she might explode from it. 

"We talk about it in bed," Bev says slowly, "because it turns us on, but - say we ask him, and he says yes. Would you choke? Would you look at me differently, after?" Ben's already shaking his head, but Bev squeezes his fingers, stops him before he can protest. "No, really think about it."

Ben's eyes look a little far away, but not distant. She can tell he's still there with her by how his fingers move against her palm, the ghost of tension she can see in his shoulders. Good, she thinks. He's a little uncomfortable. He's taking it seriously. 

"Let's talk to Melinda about it," Bev says. "Table it for now. That's healthy, right? Clearing a potential threesome with our therapist?"

Ben laughs a little too loudly, and then winces. "Sounds like a joke Richie would make," he says sheepishly, after a second.

"It really does," Bev says, grinning. She snorts. "We can _never_ tell him. No matter what happens, either way. Swear on our lives - Richie can _never know._ "

"Absolutely not," Ben agrees, with fervor. 

_He was gentle, but not a pushover,_ Kay told her. _He was a little standoffish at first - maybe because he knew you and I are friends, that probably made him a little uncomfortable - but that was almost hotter, it was like I had to really work to impress him, you know? He'd be there, on the couch or in bed or whatever, and he'd just look at me, and I'd be like, 'oh fuck, I have to do something or he'll leave.' So I'd do something wild, just to try and get him to stay. Like I'd offer to do something I don't normally do. Not that he ever said anything that made me feel pressured into doing that - it was all stuff I wanted - but it was in the way he was, you know what I mean? Like he was waiting for me to give him a reason._

_Once - oh God, I can't believe I'm telling you this, I'm so drunk - but once we were coming back from that party I told you about - yeah the one in South LA - and he turned to me in the car and said something crazy romantic, I don't even remember what it was now. Something about how I looked, he like, he always told me I looked beautiful but he wasn't showy about it, it was so nice - and I just thought to myself: 'this guy makes me want to embarrass myself.' And that's it! Like, he's so good and thoughtful and like, CALM, it just makes you want to like, take your shirt off and dance on top of the bar because it makes you feel like a fucking wild stallion. So I turned back to him, just right after he's said this amazingly sweet, kind thing, and - you're already laughing, I know, I get it - I say: 'have you ever fucked a woman in the ass before?' Oh my God, Bev, yeah. Fuckin' yuck it up, you bitch. Listen, I already said he made me want to embarrass myself._

_Well yeah he was good at it! Of course he was. He, like - okay so you know when you're doing anal and - maybe this is just me, but - you're always so paranoid that you're gonna do something embarrassing, right? Like you'll fart or start bleeding, or whatever. Sex is like, gross all the time but with anal it's like a little awkward too, and it hurts if you don't do it right, so it's always harder to stay relaxed, and it's harder to come, yadda yadda, but - with Mike I didn't feel any of that. It just felt like I was in a porno, Jesus Christ. Like the way he talked to me, he had me so - like I was bent over the edge of a couch in my apartment in LA, the lights were all on, the curtains were open - who knows what my neighbors saw, God - and it should've been mortifying! I'm not an exhibitionist! But holy fucking shit, it was so hot. It was SO hot, Bev. I felt like the fucking Goddess of Love, or something, literally like I was in the hottest, most high-quality porn. I just went out of my mind, I was so loud. He kept stroking my back and talking to me like I was a fucking horse or something, saying shit like - 'it's okay honey, keep breathing, it's okay' - and I swear to fucking God I came like three times. No, I'm serious! Three times!_

_I think, if we'd been a little more compatible, it would've been even better, because we could both tell that the chemistry wasn't right sometimes. It wasn't like he was some sex expert or anything, but it was so easy to laugh about shit with him, even when we fucked something up, or like that time I told you about where pulled a muscle in his leg - it didn't like, ruin the mood. He was just a good guy, you know? He really cared about me, he wanted me to feel comfortable and sexy. I don't date men like that very often. They're hard to find out in the wild, you know?_

_Yeah. God, dude, it was good. And fuck, his cock was big. Hall of fame in my dating history. Not that that matters, you know. I mean, I could fall in love with a guy with a small cock! Probably! Stop fucking laughing at me! Oh my God, Bev! Alright, whatever, I would at least try. Shut the fuck up._

"Mike," Bev says, "are you seeing anyone?"

Mike is fixing Ben and Bev's sink, which has already put her in the mood. There's something delicious and cliche about it - stopping by to look at their leaky pipes. He's got his sleeves rolled up and he hugged Ben in greeting when he came inside, asking genially about his business trip to Utah. _Welcome home,_ he'd said. Bev can't stop staring at his thighs, thick and appealingly solid-looking in his jeans. She kind of wants to sit on them.

"Can I ask you a question before I answer that question?" he calls, muffled and a little echo-y from beneath the sink. 

"What? No. I mean yes," Bev says, then frowns, leaning back against the edge of the counter to shoot a look at Ben, muffling laughter at the dining room table. "I mean - what's _your_ question?"

"My question is, are you going to set me up with another one of your friends?" Mike calls. 

"I didn't set you up with Kay!"

"You definitely did." Mike inches out from beneath the sink, shooting her an amused, sly look. His collar is damp around his collarbones. "Not that I didn't appreciate it, but."

"I was just asking," Bev grumbles. She glares at Ben, who is probably laughing at her utter non-smoothness, more than anything else. She does talk a big game, but in practice, her flirting got stuck around age sixteen. Her best move is to steal a guy's hat and wear it and ask him several dozen times if she looks cuter in it than he does, which will definitely not work on Mike, since he never wears hats. 

"Not at the moment," Mike says, laughing along with Ben as he climbs to his feet. At her, with her - what's the difference? "I don't know. I had such a good time with Kay, and the breakup was so easy going too, I feel a little - "

"Spoiled?" Ben says, laughing. 

"Maybe," Mike replies. "I haven't had my heart broken since...well," he looks a little sheepish then, leaning against the counter next to Bev's elbow. "Maybe ever. Not romantically. I _was_ pretty bummed when I broke up with the assistant librarian in Derry - you guys remember I told you about her, right? Nadia?"

"Right, the one who moved to India," Bev says. 

"I was more jealous of that than I was of the guy she left me for," Mike says dryly. "I don't know. Maybe I've never really been in love. I definitely don't think I've ever felt it like you two feel it. Or like Stan and Pat."

"Well, that's different," Bev says. "That comes with time, honey." She shoots a somewhat panicked glance at Ben at the slip-up endearment, but Mike doesn't even blink, and Ben definitely just starts laughing at her again. "In the beginning, before you have all that history to build on, it's different. More shallow, but not any less intense. Have you ever felt...really passionate about someone? Like you would crawl out of your skin to be close to them?"

"Well, you guys," Mike says easily, and then blanches, turning his face away in such clear embarrassment that Bev's heart aches. "I mean, not like that. You know - "

"We know what you mean," Ben says warmly, kindly. Mike fusses with his shirt sleeve, and then his pliers, and doesn't make eye contact. "We're glad you're here with us, Mikey."

"Yeah." Mike clears his throat. Bev wants to touch him so badly, but she's afraid of scaring him off. Afraid too, if she's honest, that he'll jerk away from her, offended. Disgusted. She and Ben have been talking about that with Melinda a lot - why it turns her on so much to think of her friends wanting her, why Bev cries sometimes after sex, hollowed out and sad. Is it because she feels ashamed? Like a whore? Is she disgusted with herself for liking things that people used to whisper about them behind their backs, graffiti on the bathroom walls at Derry Middle School - _Bev takes it from both ends. Bev's the Loser Bicycle. Beverly Marsh can't decide which Loser dick she wants most so she takes them all!_ Maybe all of the above. But more than anything, she thinks: _I'm afraid of how I feel because I'm afraid deep down, they can't possibly really like me that much. I like to think about them wanting me that way because it makes me feel like I have something to offer them._ Which makes her feel sad and a little ashamed, too. But also really hot. Like, bonfire-levels of turned on. Like she said, she's been working on it. 

"You need to just not think about it for awhile," Ben suggests, which would sound like a leading question, except for how earnest he sounds about it. "Just - go out, man. Download Tinder or something. Relax with some people, and figure out what you like."

"I'm not really that kind of person," Mike says. "I think I need to...care about someone a little. You know? What could a stranger even offer me, you know? I would just feel gross about it the next day."

Bev feels electric. Like a wild stallion. She wants to take her shirt off and dance on top of the kitchen counter. "With a friend then," she says, and looks over at Ben, wild-eyed. He raises his eyebrows at her, still biting back a smile. "Someone you trust."

"Maybe," Mike says, sounding thoughtful. 

They've talked about this too, how not to be creepy about it. Short of sending Mike a note that says: _would you like to have a threeway with us? Check yes or no,_ they haven't come up with any bright, cute ideas on how to approach it without coming off like one of those weirdo couples you meet in casino bars, who send you a drink from across the room and then descend upon you like vultures, stroking your hair and telling you how much they dig your vibe. "You could, um," Bev says, and then loses her bravado, widening her eyes at Ben for help, who just stifles another laugh, shaking his head at his lap. "We could talk about it. The three of us. If you wanted."

Mike looks at Bev, and then at Ben, his palms laid out flat against the counter. He doesn't look suspicious, or freaked out, simply...Mike. Very calm, unflappable. Reasonable. Bev wants to bite his jaw. "Talk about it?" he repeats, slowly. 

"I just - yeah, you know," Bev stammers, nervous now, "about whatever. You can trust us. And we trust you. Like - if you wanted to talk things out with us, we could open a bottle of wine, and relax a little...I don't know. Maybe the next time we take the boat out?" She looks over at Ben helplessly, waiting until Mike's head is turned to mouth angrily: _fucking help me._

"Just - I think what Bev means," Ben says, nobly conquering his hilarity in time to actually sweep in with the assist, "is that we care about you, and we're here for you. And if you wanted some people to relax with, well...we love you, Mike. There's space for you, that's all." Ben spreads his palms out, his face wide open and earnest. He's making it sound so romantic, Bev thinks. (Because it is romantic, but it's also like, a come on. But a classy one. She's so proud of him.)

Mike blinks at them both for another prolonged second, the only visible sign of surprise on his face. His shoulder brushes against Bev's as he turns his head, but he doesn't startle, and he seems as relaxed as he did five minutes before, when he was laughing at her, which is a good sign. "Wow," is all he says, and then he lets it sit. Bev blinks up at him, catching him in eye contact, and she can _feel_ herself blushing, all the way up to her forehead. His gaze on her feels like a physical touch, like an air pressure change. 

"No pressure," Ben adds, a little weakly. Bev tears her eyes away to look, and he's flushed too. _He liked watching us look at each other,_ Bev thinks, her stomach clenching. 

"Okay," Mike says after a loaded second. He leans back, his palms sliding against the granite. The sound seems overly loud in the quiet, and Bev shivers. "Okay. That's good to know. I love you guys," he says definitively. "I love you both very much."

Ben nods, his expression full, overwhelmed. Bev fumbles desperately for her coffee cup, and tries to be subtle about pressing herself against the bottom kitchen counters. She's not sure she succeeds. 

"I need to," Mike says, and gestures vaguely at the pipes, which are still dripping. "I still haven't found the uh, the leak."

"Right, yeah, right," Bev says mindlessly, making wild eyes at Ben again. He gives her a similarly frenzied look back, his knees jittering so hard beneath the table she can almost see it rattling. "Do you, uh, do you need any help?"

"From you? No," Mike says, nudging her playfully. Bev nearly yelps out loud. "Ben, maybe. I'll let you know." He then unceremoniously plops his ass back down on the floor, sliding back down beneath the sink. Bev rips her eyes away from his waist, his thighs, the pleasant curve of his calves down into his work boots, and covers her face with both hands. Her heart is pounding. 

"I don't work on weekends," Ben says. She feels him come up to the edge of the counter across from her and press a kiss against the crown of her head. She waves one hand at him weakly. 

"Coulda fooled me," Mike says. His voice is echoing again. 

"Wider," Ben says on a gasp, holding Bev's jaw carefully, massaging the bottom point of her chin as she chokes a little, the girth of his cock both comforting and overwhelming, heavy on her tongue. He's already close, she can tell, his legs are trembling with effort on either side of her shoulders, his voice is shaking. "God, baby, this feels so good. You're so good."

Bev makes a little noise, something deep and tender twisting inside of her at the phrase. She closes her eyes, breathes in through her nose, and pushes her head down farther until she can feel him pressing against the back of her throat. He chokes loudly, his hand slipping on her chin, both palms coming up to rest gently against the sides of her head. _Touch my neck,_ she wants to say, swallowing around him, moving her head up and down gently, as quickly as she can without choking too much. _Pull me down, make me take it. Hold my head and fuck my throat. I love you, I love you. Take everything from me, I want you to have it._

"You look so good," Ben says, and Bev makes another noise, fumbling up for his hand, pulling his palm around to the back of her neck. He squeezes a little, his fingers pulling a little painfully at the little hairs at the edge of her hairline, and she moans again, excited just by the mere suggestion of it, the _possibility_ that he might pull her head down, force himself deeper. "Do you think Mike is bigger than me?"

Bev moans so loud and suddenly that she makes herself choke a little, pulling back until the head of his cock is just barely in her mouth, breathing hard. Ben keeps his hands on her neck, warm and steady.

"I bet he is," Ben says, gently guiding her back down, once she's caught her breath. Bev shivers, whimpering, feeling like a different person. Her knees are shaking against the carpet. She's so wet she can feel herself soaking through her panties. Like a wild stallion, Kay had said. "You can take me because I'm smaller. It'd be harder for you with Mike. He's bigger. Probably thicker too. You'd have to work up to it."

Bev sucks desperately, pushing her mouth down as far as she can go again, her hands braced against his thighs for balance. She imagines herself taking him so far deep that her forehead would touch the skin of his pelvis, his balls pressed against her chin. Maybe one day. 

"He probably wouldn't come like that," Ben says, and he almost sounds sweet about it, like he's daydreaming. Bev closes her eyes, her mouth stretched wide around him, and lets his voice float down around her, like a distant, pleasant fog. "He'd need a little bit more. So he'd watch while you sucked me. Maybe he'd hold you. He'd sit right here, right next to us - " Ben breaks off, his dick getting stiffer, and Bev pulls back to tongue at the head, knowing he's about to the edge, but wanting him to finish the thought. "God. Fuck. Yeah, he'd hold your head like this - " Ben palms the back of her head, and pulls her back down, gentle but still firm, and Bev nearly comes right there. She wants to be good. She wants to give him everything, and she wants to feel like the center of the universe. She wants people to look at her, to hold her and move her around and tell her what to do, so she doesn't have to think about it. She wants everything, all the time. " - God, God, _Bev_. Bev, he'd show you how to do it and then when you were done with me, he'd - fuckfuckfuck - " Ben breaks off with a hiss, his hand clenching in her hair as he finally comes. Bev pushes her mouth down again to catch it all, wanting to swallow it instead of choking. It tastes bad, of course. Maybe she doesn't care. She holds him in her mouth until he softens, her whole body jittering. She's so wet it's starting to hurt. She wants to come so bad she'll do anything. She imagines Mike behind her, holding her head, not letting her pull off Ben's dick until he was satisfied that she'd swallowed it all. _That's it, honey,_ he'd say. _Make sure you get it all. I'll take care of you in a minute, I promise. Just keep breathing._

Ben's chest is heaving when he finally slides his hands away, pulling her gently off his cock by her shoulders. Bev knows her face must look wild, the picture she must make - her breasts just barely pulled out of her bra, her underwear soaked all the way through - but Ben touches her face so tenderly, his eyes bright and wide in his sweaty face. Bev turns her head to kiss his hand, and his mouth trembles. 

"I love you," he says. Bev whimpers, scrabbling at his arms, pulling him down off the bed, wanting him on top of her. "I love you, honey."

"Love you, yes," Bev gasps, yelping when his hands slide up her thighs. Her voice is hoarse, which is thrilling. She lies back, her shoulders against the carpet, and lets him press her down with his body. She imagines that Mike is watching. That they're all watching - all of them. "Touch me. Please."

"Do you want my mouth?" Ben says, biting kisses down her neck. Bev writhes beneath him, trying to rub herself against something, but he presses her hips down with his hands, which makes her cry out. "My hands?"

"Anything, Jesus Christ," Bev says, and Ben - ever obliging - slides his palm down her panties and presses his thumb against her clit. She keens. "Talk to me. Keep talking, oh God - "

"Would you want me to watch?" Ben murmurs, against her neck. "I'd be sitting up there on the bed while he put you down on the floor, like this - do you want to be on your back? On your stomach? Would he eat you out from behind, like that video we watched - you remember - or maybe you want him to fuck you? He'd do anything. I'd do anything. Baby, you look so beautiful, you're so beautiful. Come on, honey. Don't let us down. You can come like this, just with my hand. Come on, we know you can do it."

Bev feels absolutely unhinged, shaking apart against the carpet, the orgasm hitting so hard she nearly brains herself on Ben's forehead. It feels like an actual punch; she turns her head and presses her face against his shoulder and feels her breath hitching, like sobs, as her thighs clench around his hand. 

"Holy fuck," Ben mutters, easing her legs apart so he can retrieve his hand. He shakes out his wrist, grinning wildly, and leans down for a kiss. Bev opens her mouth for his tongue, wanting him to taste his own cock in her mouth. She bites his lip playfully, and he makes a surprised sound, like a little, muffled 'yip.' 

They kiss for a while until their heartbeats calm to a normal pace, and Bev waits for it - the sadness. It's been getting better since they started actually talking about it instead of just wordlessly comforting each other, but all she feels now is a hazy sort of pleasure, a soft kind of happiness. No melancholy. No self-disgust. Just a faint ache in her jaw, and maybe a teeny bit of rug burn on her shoulders. It's whatever. 

"Love you," she murmurs, kissing the side of his nose. Ben mumbles something back, hugging her close as they lay side by side on the carpet. She feels oddly affectionate about how stupid he looks, with his shirt still on but naked from the waist down, his soft dick flopping around goofily between his thighs. "Do you think he heard?"

"From all the way out on the boat?" Ben laughs. "Yes. If it's sexier, then sure. He heard it."

"We should ask Richie where he buys his nanny cams," Bev says, grinning, and Ben guffaws. "Well - maybe not."

"The pact," Ben reminds her solemnly. 

Right. They'd actually spat in their palms before they shook on that one. "Just an idea," Bev says breezily, snuggling into his shoulder contentedly. 

"Yeah," Ben agrees. He sounds happier than she ever thought a man could sound, in bed with her. Just beautiful, and simple, and good. It's a good night. 

Ben doesn't have to go out of town for a while. He's working on some designs for the firm, but he's mostly hands off at the moment. Bev's the same. They could go stay at his house in Ithaca, but they don't. They could visit one of the other Losers if they wanted - most of them are less busy in the summers, just like them - but they don't do that either. Mike finds all sorts of things to fix inside the house - the window stripping in the bathroom, the loose showerhead, the dusty chimney. The ice maker in the fridge (turns out there was a hair clip stuck in it). The windshield wipers on Bev's car, once. 

In the mornings Bev walks down to the pier to wake Mike up, usually, two cups of coffee in her hands, walking carefully across the wood slats in her bare feet. _Morning!_ he calls to her, through the little porthole window. _Who goes there?_

 _I'm your worst nightmare, sailor,_ Bev calls back, and then they drink their homemade lattes right there on the dock, their feet in the water. They chat about music, about Richie's podcast (surprisingly well-researched - they both suspect Stan's influence) - about Eddie's divorce, about Patty's ongoing feud with the rude neighbor. By the time they wander back up to the house, Ben is back from his run, and he makes them breakfast. Smoothies, orange juice, omelets. Turkey bacon and hash browns. 

One morning, Mike reaches out and steadies her as they're walking back up through the yard, helping her keep her balance when she trips on a rock hidden in the grass. He holds her shoulders, waiting for her to indicate that she's fine, but she doesn't. She just looks up at him, from beneath the solid weight of his arm, and blinks at him like an idiot, caught off guard by the strength of the butterflies in her stomach, how twitterpated she feels just by a simple, friendly touch. He smiles at her, at first kind, then a little concerned, and then she sees his expression smooth out into a knowing, sly sort of realization, and then he just nods, sliding his hands down to her waist. They walk all the way back to the house like that, like prom dates. Ben smiles, silly and pleased, down at his frying pan, when he sees them walk into the room. 

"Are you good?" Bev whispers, checking in with Ben every few days or so. "Were you jealous, when you saw him touching my back earlier?"

"No," he says. "Were you? When he brushed my hair back?"

Bev flushes red, and shakes her head. Is this how it starts? She wonders. It's not anything she's ever felt before. Is this how normal people lose their mind, quit their jobs, and run off with the pool boys? (The difference is, of course, unlike the last time she'd upended her life out of nowhere, this time her partner is right there on board next to her. Like most things associated with Ben, it's a good feeling.)

They drink wine out of paper cups on the deck of the boat on the Fourth of July, watching the fireworks down the beach. Mike has his shirt unbuttoned to his collarbone, one of Ben's knees hooked around his shin, and he keeps reaching out to touch Bev's face, laughing at her jokes, rubbing her cheek and her chin affectionately. Bev looks at them both, handsome and wonderful, sharing the same bench, and thinks, _man, I'm so lucky._ Then she rubs off frantically in the bathroom while they set up the grill for steaks, picturing Mike taking her from behind on the deck while Ben fucks her throat, muffling the sounds she makes as she comes in one of Mike's hand towels. It's the intention behind it, she figures. The definition of romance is subjective, after all. 

One night in August, Mike comes by the house to watch Bill's new movie, newly out on streaming. Richie has a cameo. Eddie's been systematically shredding it all day - "how many times has he watched it by now?" Ben asks incredulously. "It's Tuesday. Doesn't he _work_?" - in the group chat and Bev is curious. It's not _that_ bad. Audra plays the most interesting character - a psychic, jaded waitress who befriends the protagonist, a thirteen-year-old boy with fireball powers he can't control. It's like, a metaphor, or something. 

"For puberty, right?" Bev asks. Mike's sitting on the floor, leaning against her legs, and Ben's playing absently with her hair, his arm loosely hooked around her neck. She feels a little tipsy, and pleasantly overwhelmed. 

"Or trauma," Mike says. 

"Everything Bill writes is about trauma," Ben says, a little dismissive, but not unkind about it. "I thought Richie was good."

"He should've been in it more!" Mike agrees. "It needed a little bit more comic relief, I think."

"I didn't know he could act," Ben marvels.

Bev snorts, reaching down over Mike's shoulder to grab the remote out of his lap. "He was just playing himself," she says, and flicks the television off. The sudden absence of the Netflix looping trailers throws the situation into high-def, somehow. Mike turns his head and looks up at them, still leaning most of his weight against Bev's knees, and Bev thinks of being thirteen - sharing a single cement step with three or four other Losers, bunched up together, hips against thighs, in the back bus seat. Swapping cigarettes with Richie at the quarry. Tongue kissing Eddie as a dare - and a taunt - at a sleepover party. Holding Stan's hand in the back of biology class, beneath the tables. Even Bill - kissing him as an adult, the guilty thrill of it.

"I could," Mike says, and falters a little. "It's late. I can get out of your hair, if you guys want."

"You don't have to," Ben says. He tilts his head, knocking it gently against Bev's ear. "It's still early. We could open a bottle of wine." Mike hums a little, lifting his weight off Bev's legs to sit up straight, rubbing his chin. 

Somehow, Bev knows they're both waiting on her for the final call. It makes her stomach twist a little, not unpleasantly. "That bottle of red your mom sent us," she says, craning her neck to look at Ben. Then she smiles down at Mike, trying to look non-threatening. _Your decision,_ she wants to say. _We love you, forever, no matter which door you choose._ "We could, um. We could talk some more, if you want, Mike."

Mike smiles, looking almost bashful. "Sure," he says. He reaches up and squeezes her knee, and Bev bites her lip, her skin lighting up beneath the touch. "I got nowhere to be tomorrow."

"Neither do we," Ben says, sounding relieved. Bev grins at them both. 

_He likes it - not rough, exactly,_ Kay said. Much later than the last conversation. Over much harder cocktails, and after a serious, very embarrassing conversation in Manhattan, three weeks prior. _But he likes to be in charge. But he won't want to be rough with you - just like, firm. And he's very sweet, don't worry. God, I'm so jealous of you, babe. Listen - if you ever want to consider maybe...opening up the party? Well, you have my number. Look at you, blushing, after what you just told me?! Bitch, don't look at me like that, you know what I mean -_

"That was _not_ me!" Bev cries, laughing so hard she feels a little dizzy, "that was Rebecca, what was her name. Rebecca something. Richie asked her out on a dare from Stan and she came with us that time to the movies, do you remember? God, it was so long ago - "

" _Silence of the Lambs,_ " Ben says, remembering. "Man. We were all so jealous of him. Holding hands with Rebecca Thomas in front of everybody - "

" _Thomas!_ " Bev slaps her palm against Mike's shoulder in triumph. "That was her name!"

"Blonde hair, all the way to her waist," Mike says, shaking his head. "So friendly and nice. Really wanted to get to know us. Richie didn't know what the hell to do with her. He told me later that he hit her in the nose with his forehead when she tried to kiss him. Almost broke her nose."

Bev snorts, leaning over almost double in her chair, wheezing with laughter. 

"So you were my first kiss," Ben says, eyes dancing, "and Bill's, obviously, but not Richie's. Got it. Who else? Eddie? You used to kiss Eddie all the time - "

"As a joke!" Bev cries. 

"Still counts," Mike says, laughing loudly. It fills the room - his resonant, cheerful baritone. Bev likes to listen to him laugh a lot. "I think you were probably his first, yeah. He was too embarrassed to tell us, but the odds are good, Bev. We were what, thirteen, when we used to play Truth or Dare?"

"Eddie was definitely not kissing anyone else, at age thirteen," Ben says, voice tight with repressed laughter. 

"Alright, so that's what," Bev says, pulling herself back up. The wine's gone to her head, but in a good way. She feels a little floaty, but not drunk. The laughter is helping. "Three out of six? I wasn't Stan's. I know that. Richie wouldn't shut up about that girl he went on a date with, the summer after eighth grade. The brunette girl from his temple."

"Oh jeez," Ben says ruefully. "I think her name was Rebecca, too."

"You were mine," Mike says, and Bev nearly chokes. He laughs merrily at the look on her face. "I knew you didn't remember."

"What? No!"

"You were! At my grandpa's church. Do you remember that morning you came by, and my mom loaned you one of my cousin's dresses? You sang in the choir and everything."

It comes back to Bev in a sick rush: she'd snuck out of the house, because her dad had been trying to get into her room all night, pounding at the door and yelling obscenities at her through the wood. She had her clothes and stuff in her backpack but there was a giant bruise on her face, and she didn't want to deal with the questions she'd get from the well-meaning but cloying Toziers, or Bill's mom, who would tear up every time she saw Bev, like the very sight of her hurt her feelings. Ben lived too far away to walk, and God forbid she'd go to Eddie's. So she'd gone to Mike's, meaning only to ask for some food and maybe a band-aid or something, but Mrs. Hanlon caught her trying to sneak in through the kitchen door. She took one look at Bev's face and pulled her into the bathroom, and made her hold ice against her busted lip while she carefully put some smelly ointment on the lump on her forehead. Then she made Bev go to church, in an itchy, borrowed dress, and Mike looked so embarrassed and sorry about all the fuss they were making that she kissed him on the cheek on the lawn outside the chapel, squeezing his shoulder until he smiled at her. God, how many years ago had that been? It feels strange, that Bev was the same person now, that she'd been back then. That that girl could have possibly grown into the woman she is today, but somehow - she had. 

"Just on the cheek," Bev says, affectionate. 

"I counted it," Mike said. "It was my first ever, from a girl. It counted."

Bev smiled, reaching out to touch his hand. Their palms slid together easily, like they were already used to it. 

Ben cleared his throat softly. "Mike," he says, seriously, "you could kiss her now, if you wanted. A real kiss, this time."

Mike is staring at both of them, a little unsurely, holding Bev's hand in one hand and his empty wine glass in the other. "I - "

"No pressure," Bev says softly, and waits for him to decide. He looks at Ben closely, brow furrowed, before moving his eyes to her, sweeping her from head to toe. "Only if you want."

Mike makes a thoughtful noise, and then untangles their hands to reach down and pull her chair closer. Bev blinks in surprise, her stomach jumping, gripping the back rail for balance. "Should we talk first?" he asks, looking at Bev but pitching his voice for Ben to hear. "I don't want to be the reason you fight. I _definitely_ don't want to fuck anything up - "

"You won't," Ben says, pouring himself another glass. Bev watches him settle in to watch, his gaze warm and attentive on them both. "It's okay - we've been talking about it. Don't worry."

"We just want to be with you," Bev says, reaching up to touch Mike's face. His beard - a little more grown out than he usually keeps it - feels rough against the pads of her fingers. She's not usually so close to him like this, without Ben nearby as well. He smells like wine, like aftershave - different from Ben's, but not unwelcome. His eyes are so wide in his face, a warm, dark shade of brown, beautiful and looking straight at her. "Only if you want though, Mikey. We're all friends, we can just...keep it good, if we work at it. You know what I mean? It's not that hard. We all love each other. We're not gonna let it go bad."

Mike nods, staring at her mouth. "It's been awhile, since," he says, and then doesn't finish. Fascinated, Bev presses her thumb against his bottom lip. It gives beneath the slightest pressure, his mouth opening slightly beneath the pad of her thumb, his eyes going half-lidded. She feels wild again. 

"Kiss her," Ben says softly, and like a switch flipping, Mike grabs her hand, pulling it out the way, and does. Bev makes a surprise noise against his mouth, overwhelmed suddenly by the weird sensation of kissing someone who isn't Ben - he smells different, he tastes different - but it's not a bad feeling. More like new, and exciting. Mike kisses like she'd always imagined him to kiss - methodically and confidently, slow, undemanding. Bev feels her insides melt, her head floating into the soft space she sometimes goes to when it's really good, with Ben. When she can feel, deep down in her bones, that the pleasure she feels is right, and deserved, and she doesn't have to feel guilty about it. 

"Beautiful," Mike murmurs, pulling away. His hands are on her face, and he's looking at her, holding her still, so she can't hide from it. "She's so beautiful, Ben. I don't know how you stand it."

"I can't, most of the time," Ben says fondly, as Bev pants, a little overwhelmed already. "You look so good together."

"Oh my God," Bev says dazedly, not knowing where to look. One in front of her, one off to the side. She's never felt so surrounded, or so safe. 

Mike kisses her again, soft and fond. His eyes are sparkling. "Jesus," he says, almost to himself, "I thought I was imagining things. Aren't I the luckiest bastard on the planet?" He sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, biting a little, which makes her moan. "What do you want to do? You both have to tell me."

"What do you want to do, Mike?" Ben asks. His voice is husky already. 

"Whatever you guys want. Anything," Mike says, rubbing his thumbs down Bev's cheekbones. "What do you want, Beverly?"

 _Fuck me fuck me fuck me fuck me,_ Bev thinks. What she says, though, is: "do you like to be watched?"

Mike laughs. "I wouldn't still be here if I didn't." He raises an eyebrow at Ben. 

"As opposed to the one doing the watching," Ben clarifies, with a soft smile. He gestures at himself, and Mike's face changes, gets a bit sharper. More intent. 

"I - yes," Mike says, turning back to Bev. He moves his hands from her cheeks down to her throat, trailing the backs of his knuckles along the bare skin above her collar. Avoids her breasts - he's too classy for that so fast, clearly - and slides them around her waist. Bev holds his gaze, as directly as she can manage, her insides squirming. She's already so turned on she can hardly believe it. "Yeah, we can do that. If you want."

"I want," Bev says, hearing her voice come out strained. Mike smiles at her, gently. 

"Lucky," he says again, leaning in to kiss her again. This one is chaste, closed-mouthed, just a soft brush of lips against hers. Bev keeps her eyes open, and sees Ben smiling at them, his eyes wide and amazed. Lucky, she thinks. Yeah, _real_ fuckin' lucky. 

Like high schoolers, there's a lot of bumping and grinding, fumbly twisting and rubbing, before they even get into the bedroom. Ben walks behind them, alternately laughing at them and helping guide them through doorways, before he finally gives up and yanks Bev right out of Mike's arms, tossing her over his shoulder like he does sometimes when they're playing Marco Polo at Stan and Patty's pool. Bev shrieks and hears Mike's answering bark of laughter, and the world goes a bit blurry as she's tossed onto the bed, two friendly, laughing shadows looming over her in the dark of the bedroom. 

"Jesus," she says breathlessly, slipping her feet out of her sandals. "Whoever's on deck, get down here already. I feel like I'm in one of those gangbang college pornos."

"God, do you always have to bring that up," she hears Ben say in dismay - he _hates_ gangbang videos - before Mike moves into the dim light from the bathroom, kneeling down on the bed to kiss her again. Bev loses track of the plot for a while - she distantly registers Ben moving around behind them, somewhere else in the room - but Mike really is _such_ a good kisser. Not better than Ben, exactly, but more committed. Kissing Ben is affectionate, a sweet gesture more than anything else. Not a prelude to sex most of the time, just a way to love each other. But Mike kisses her like he wants her to remember it for the rest of her life. 

"What do you like?" Mike asks, pulling away slightly. She can feel his erection against her hip, through two layers of clothing. She grips his shoulders and breathes out slowly, her heart racing. "Do you want him to tell me what to do?"

"No, I - he can watch us," Bev says, turning her head to see Ben. He's sitting in the armchair by the bed, his elbows on his knees. He smiles at her when they make eye contact, his face intent, calm. Not jealous or angry - she's a bit relieved, even after all the talking about it they'd done - but intent. Interested. "Maybe another time. I - I like when Ben talks to me."

"When he tells _you_ what to do?" Mike asks calmly. He sounds just like Kay had described - firm, gentle. In charge. "Do you like to be told how beautiful you are?"

"I don't hate it," Bev says, blushing. He laughs, pulling up her shirt slightly, running his hands along her bare stomach. "No, I just mean - we talk about it a lot. What we'd like to do with you."

"Really?" Mike sounds surprised, maybe for the first time. 

"She likes that a lot," Ben says. "She comes so fast, Mike. It's incredible."

Mike turns back to Bev, who bites her lip and tries to look alluring. She gets the impression, from the grin on his face, that it comes off more goofy than anything else.

"Interesting," he says, and then ducks down to bite one of her breasts through her dress. Bev yips in surprise. 

He undresses her slowly, keeping his hands firmly on her shoulders or her face as he pulls her clothes off, like he's keeping her in place, which is just enough suggestion of force that Bev feels like a wilted flower by the time she's actually naked, her knees shaking around Mike's waist. That they're both still fully clothed, looking at her, makes it even worse, the tiny edge of embarrassment combined with the soft, gentle feeling of safety, the reassurance of Ben's eyes on her and Mike's hands - it's heady. It feels like being high. Mike climbs back out of the bed, once she's lying there naked, and just looks at her for a second, his hands on her hips, and Bev feels like she's about to shrivel up like a piece of taffy, drying out in the sun on the pavement. 

"Why don't you talk then," he says after a minute, his voice hitting her nerve endings just right. Bev fights not to move or curl away, sliding her hands through her own hair and arching her back. She can see them both looking at her, watching the rise and fall of her ribcage as she breathes, running their eyes over her bare legs, her nipples, her neck. "You tell me what y'all have been talking about, and I'll see what I can do about it."

"Jesus," she hears Ben mutter. She turns her head, sees him stretching out in the chair. He's straining against his jeans, his big palm rubbing his cock over the denim. 

"Okay," Bev whispers, closing her eyes briefly, pressing her thighs together. Mike reaches down and touches both her knees, urging them back apart. When she opens her eyes again he smiles, and tugs her downward on the bed, urging her feet up on the edge so that her knees are bent, thighs wide open in front of him, looming over her. "God. Okay. I thought about you fucking me, like a lot."

"Obviously," Mike says. His gentle amusement makes Bev feel even more crazy. 

"From behind. Bent over something. Like - "

"Kay," Mike finishes, a little ruefully. He slides his palms down her legs, stopping right before her cunt, his thumbs pressing deeply into the soft skin of her thighs. Bev shudders. "She really liked the ass stuff."

Ben snorts loudly, which makes Bev laugh. Mike cracks a sheepish grin, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. 

"Do you want me to do that, Beverly?" he asks, still smiling a little. "Fuck you in the ass? Like I did it to Kay?"

"God, maybe," Bev says breathlessly. She looks over at Ben. "We've never done that before."

Ben shrugs, still touching himself over his jeans. He's looking at Mike as often as he's looking at Beverly, fascinated and amazed. She feels warm all over, watching him watch. "I figured we'd get there eventually."

"Maybe you like the idea of me getting there first," Mike says, with an uptick in his voice at the end, his eyes on Ben. The two men make eye contact, and Bev bites her lip, watching the moment unfold between them like electricity. "Maybe I could show you both what it's like."

"Oh my God," Bev says faintly. Ben bites his lip restlessly, sliding his hand down his jeans, his belt hanging loose by his wrist. He hasn't broken eye contact with Mike yet. 

"I told her you'd be good at it," Ben says, slow like honey. Mike nods, squeezing Bev's thighs tightly. "Could you show me how to do it? How to make it good for her?"

Mike makes a sound, deep in his throat. "Yes," he says roughly, turning back to Bev, who looks back up at him with wide eyes. "Bev?"

"I'm gonna fucking die," Bev says distantly, palming her own nipples. She's so wet already. "I'm gonna die right here on this bed. Oh my God." Mike huffs a laugh, leaning down to kiss one of her knees, his hands still just massaging her thighs. Bev digs her heels against the bed and tilts her hips up in the air, asking, but he just grins at her, and pulls his hands back again. 

"Okay, I think she's on board," Ben says dryly. 

"Do you have lube?" Mike asks. He leans down closer, on his elbows over her on the bed, kissing her softly. Bev moans at the feeling of his jeans against her wet cunt, the rough scratch of his flannel shirt against her tits. "Condoms?"

"Yes," Bev says, through gritted teeth. "Yes, Ben - " she flaps her hand at him vaguely, "yes - "

"It'll be easier on your hands and knees," Mike says, tugging at her ear with his teeth. "I can talk you both through it."

"Okay," Bev says stupidly, and lets him pull her up to her feet. _Oh my God,_ she thinks, her knees wobbling. _Richie would never believe me if I told him about any of this anyway._

"She likes this," Ben says, kneeling on the opposite side of the armchair, holding Bev's arms in both of his hands, "this is what she fantasizes about. Bent _over_ something, her ass in the air. She likes thinking about you behind her, and then me in front of her."

Mike crooks his fingers, his thumb pressing on the skin on the outside of her rim, and Bev twitches, pressing her forehead into the cushion. "Does she like to be tied up?" he asks, pressing a little deeper. 

"God, fuck," Bev mutters, shaking at the intrusion, feeling drunk. 

"I don't know, we've never talked about that," Ben says. 

"Maybe one of these days," Mike says, rubbing her waist soothingly. "You're doing so good, Bev. You look beautiful like this."

Bev feels crazy. Bent over the thick arm of the chair, she's perpetually out of breath, suspended as she is with the arm pressing into her stomach, her own weight working against her. Mike had taken a long-ass time with the lube, going so slow she thought she might explode, one finger at a time, running his other hand up and down her back, palming her neck. She knows she gave it away, how much she liked that, by how she shivered, because he immediately stopped. He likes to be a little withholding, she's noticed, backing away when he notices she likes something, drawing it out. Saving it up for the right moment, or something. She has to be stretched out enough by now - it feels like it's been hours. 

"You like it, right?" Ben asks, kneeling down at her side to kiss her. He has to pull her head sideways, tilting almost a full ninety degrees to line their faces up for a kiss. She must look bright red, she thinks, moaning into Ben's mouth when Mike pulls his fingers out briefly to work up to another, rubbing the rim of her asshole with his thumbs, practically massaging the lube into her. His mouth on the small of her back, too, makes her jump, and Ben pulls away with a laugh. "Yeah? You like it?"

"Please fuck me," Bev begs, turning her head again to grind her forehead into the cushion. "Somebody, please."

"A little more," Mike murmurs, strong and warm behind her. He runs his hand up her back again and wraps it around her neck, and Bev moans out loud. "Easy, sweetheart. You're doing so good."

"Ben," she gasps, her legs twitching when Mike goes in again, sliding his long fingers all the way inside of her, twisting them until she feels like her whole body is squirming, all her insides twisted up around the movement of his hand inside of her. Three fingers? That has to be enough, right? "Ben, take your fucking jeans off, baby. I wanna see you."

"Yeah?" Ben says breathlessly, laughing a little incredulously. He rubs a hand through her hair affectionately, his belt clinking as he moves, shifting around next to her head. Bev moves her head again so she can see, blinking into the darkness, her cheek pressed against the cushion. 

"I want to see too," she hears Mike say, and his fingers pause inside her as Ben undresses, pulling his shirt off without ceremony, his jeans slipping down his thighs. Bev makes a helpless noise, looking at the expression on Ben's face as he looks at Mike over her head. "Jesus. Look at you. Look at you both."

Bev laughs a little. Her arms are braced against the chair, her head pressed into the cushion - she can barely even move, with Mike's hands inside her and against her back, his thighs pressing against her legs, pinning her in place. She still can squirm a little, though, and she feels Mike startle in surprise, pictures him blinking out of a stupor. It's understandable. She'd gone into a near-trance too, the first time she saw Ben's cock. 

"I want you in my mouth," she says. She thrusts her hips back, into Mike, who inhales sharply and rubs his fingers upwards, inside of her ass. She shivers. "I want Ben in my mouth and Mike - I want - "

"Alright, easy," he says, pulling his fingers out. "We can do that."

"On the bed though," Ben says, voice rough. "The chair's not big enough."

"My bed on the boat would work better," Mike says, "lower to the ground." He sounds absent, like he didn't really mean to say that. Bev feels them moving around above her, and she lays there, hanging over the edge for a minute, catching her breath as much as she can. She turns her head just in time to see them kiss softly, Ben's hands rubbing softly at Mike's collarbone, leaning over her body between them. Bev is definitely gonna fucking die tonight. 

"That was nice," Ben says, like he's surprised. Mike smiles at him. 

"Oh my fucking God," Bev says dazedly, trying to pull herself up. Her arms are fucking _aching._ Both of them rush to pull her up so quickly they almost bump heads again. 

The bed is definitely easier; Bev settles in between the two of them, kissing Ben and then Mike in turns as they wrestle with Mike's jeans, which are apparently welded on with cement. Mike keeps breaking down into laughter every time he sees the pattern from the felt of the chair, which is now imprinted into Bev's abdomen. When he finally struggles out of his jeans he pushes her back and kisses it, rubbing his thumbs along the reddened skin while Ben moves around to the opposite side, discarding the rest of his clothes as he goes. 

"You're such a redhead," Mike says, "look at you. You blush everywhere."

"You don't," Bev says stupidly, running her palms down his strong shoulders. She's never seen him naked before (obviously) but she'd always pictured him like this - smiling and affectionate, his chest smooth and hairless. She kisses his chin and pushes him back slightly to look at his cock, and almost chokes. "Shit," she says. 

"Didn't I tell you he'd be big?" Ben says, climbing up on the bed behind her. He sounds almost giddy.

"Christ, guys, I'm already hard," Mike mutters. Bev reaches down to touch him, running her palm up his shaft gently, exploring. He makes a surprised noise and then clamps his mouth shut, his eyes falling closed for a brief moment. 

"You can take him," Ben says, his hands running warmly up her back. "And I _know_ you can take me."

Bev's mouth is already watering. "God," she says, tilting her head back against Ben's shoulder as he kisses her neck, looking up at Mike through her eyelashes. Mike is staring, holding her hand against his hard dick loosely, his other palm against his mouth. He looks, for a moment, overwhelmed. "Mike?"

Mike blinks. "Yeah," he says blankly. 

"You with us?" Ben asks. 

"I'm with you," Mike says. He grins, shaking off the moment as quickly as it had descended. His eyes are a little watery, Bev notes, and feels close to tearing up herself. "Turn her over, Ben. Do you have a pillow or something? For her hips?"

Ben smiles, kissing Bev's cheek softly before he tugs her backwards, guiding her over onto her hands and knees. "In the closet. The big one. We've used it before."

It takes, understandably, some awkward shuffling before they find a good position. Bev finds the logistics of it even more arousing somehow, something nervous and twangy in her stomach as they mutter above her head, pushing and pulling her around as they try to find the right spot for the pillow, the right angle for her hips, should Ben kneel on the bed or sit cross-legged? Will she be able to breathe like this, or should we try it with her on her back? She thinks of afternoons in the woods, those wooden play sets that Ben and Mike used to build together, muttering in intense concentration over some tiny model airplane or something while the rest of the Losers watched. Is she the airplane? Is this a metaphor? Her knees are shaking so hard she couldn't hold herself up without the pillow anyway. Her stomach swoops violently, as she's finally situated over the pillow, ass in the air and her head angled downward, against Ben's lap. Both sets of hands, on her back, warm, familiar and unfamiliar all at the same time. She's definitely losing her mind. If they don't fuck her soon she's going to disintegrate into time dust, or something. 

"Listen. Bev, sweetheart," Mike says, his voice washing over her back, the warmth of his body against her sweat-cooled back making her shiver, "if you need to stop, then hit your palm against the bed. Okay? Do it now, so you know that you can, okay?"

Bev slaps her palm against the sheet, grateful for the instruction. She doesn't know if she can speak right now.

"Okay, good," Ben says, lifting her head gently in both palms. She blinks, feeling drunk, pleasantly willing to be pushed and guided. He's in front of her, standing on the floor, his cock almost directly even with her eyeline, her head propped up on another thin pillow, her arms braced on either side of her head. She can feel Mike climbing up onto the bed behind her, his palms holding her hips steady, his cock pressing insistently against her thigh. "Me first, alright? We're gonna go slow."

Bev nods, mouth already open, and Ben makes a pleased noise, rubbing his thumbs against her cheeks. It's a familiar motion - his hands on her face, holding her jaw open as he guides his cock inside, the first press against her tongue, the heavy weight of him pressing against her soft palate. She can't move her head like this, which almost makes it better - she knows he's not going to hurt her. All she has to do is breathe, and open her mouth. Let them take it from her - the responsibility and the burden. 

It takes a few soft, slow thrusts until he gets fully hard - she could swear he almost does that on purpose sometimes, like he's trying to be polite, which is unbearably cute - and he keeps it slow and gentle, like he promised. It's overwhelming enough, not to be able to move. Bev lets her jaw go loose, her throat relax, and Ben makes a soft noise above her head, sliding his palms into her hair, cradling her head gently. Thrusting into her mouth, little by little, until his dick is wet with saliva, the head just barely nudging her tonsils. 

"God," Mike says. "Do you do this a lot?"

"Not like this," Ben says on a gasp, his voice tightly controlled. Bev moans a little around his cock, jumping a little when Mike's fingers slide inside her asshole again, just two at first, testing how loose she is. "She likes me to hold her head, pull her down. In the car, or whatever."

"My God," Mike says again. Bev moans again, feeling Mike's cock against her ass cheek as he lifts up on his knees, pulling his hand out of her and gripping her hips with both palms. "Stop for a second, Ben. Let her breathe while I do this."

Ben pulls out immediately, obligingly, and Bev makes a helpless noise, moaning again when she feels Mike pressing gently against her asshole. She feels him wet against her skin, fresh lube dripping down from his cock onto her cheeks, a sensation that feels similar enough to how it feels when she gets really wet that her stomach swoops. Ben leans down, on his knees, and kisses her for a minute as Mike thrusts gently, not quite breaching her rim, but just - pressing. Squeezing her hips, so she can't get away. 

"You still good?" Ben asks. Bev nods, gripping the sheet with one fist. "She's good, Mike."

"Thank God," Mike says, and pushes inside of her. Bev feels her breath punch out of her in a gasp at the first slow push, and she moans, high and loud. Ben kisses her head, bracing her shoulders, so she doesn't slip off the bed. 

"It's okay, it's okay," Ben says mindlessly, pressing kisses against her face. Bev moans again when Mike pushes a little deeper, pressing slowly inside of her. The width of him is more uncomfortable than anything else, but it feels good - a weird, surreal sort of intrusion, different from how it feels in her cunt, but similar enough that it feels a little familiar. She's never done this before with _anyone,_ she remembers suddenly. Tom had always asked - begged for it really - but she always put it off. She is, all at once, very grateful she'd managed that. "You're doing so good."

"Let her get used to it," Mike says, his voice much deeper than usual. Bev breathes in and out slowly as he pulls out and then slowly pushes back in, his hands slipping in the sweat and lube smeared all over her hips. "That's it, baby. God, look at you. I never thought I'd get to see either of you like this. So beautiful." Mike sounds almost reverent, grunting a little as he works himself inside of her, pressing deeper with each thrust. Bev whines high in her throat, unable to find words to speak, and nudges at Ben's face with her forehead. "She wants you too, Ben," Mike says, picking up a little speed, managing to hold her body still with his hands. "Come on. Give it to her."

Ben stands up again, guiding his cock back into her mouth. Bev trembles, pinned in place like a butterfly, her heart nearly beating out of her chest as they both thrust inside of her at the same time. They're still going slow, but steady - unyielding, she feels like. Even if she wanted to get away - she doesn't - but if she wanted to, the idea that they wouldn't let her - it makes her head spin. Her whole body feels hot, feverish, itchy like a rash all over. Ben presses in a little deeper, holding her head still, and Bev moans around him, feeling Mike's thrusts all the way in her stomach, getting harder and faster with each pass. 

The world narrows down and her head goes floaty, her mind drifting somewhere soft and light while her body just opens up beneath them, her muscles tingly and relaxed, her body pliant and loose for both of them. She dimly hears them talking, little fragments of sentences - _so pretty, look at her, you look amazing like that, God the sounds you're making,_ and there's a little corner of Bev's head that shivers in satisfaction at the idea that she really is _good,_ that they want her so bad they can't help themselves. Not the idea that they would ever force her - but that they _could,_ and that they won't. That Bev can let them pull her around, fuck her from both ends, hold her head and push their cocks down her throat, and it's still _her_ decision. That all she has to do to stop it is reach out her palm, and slap it. 

She doesn't. She registers Ben first, clenching one hand in her hair, holding her head still as he pushes deeper down her throat, a little deeper than she might go on her own. Bev trembles, feeling Mike slow, pressing into her ass deeply and holding himself there as he watches. She doesn't hit her palm against the bed. She hangs there, held tightly in both their hands, impaled, feeling Ben thrust minutely, back and forth against the back of her throat. She moans a little, choking slightly on his girth, and she can feel his body trembling, on the very razor's edge of coming. 

"That's it," Mike says, his voice suddenly rough and loud in the room. She can feel him throbbing in her ass, his hard cock pressed so deep she could swear she can feel it in her abdomen. "Do you swallow, sweetheart? Come in her mouth, Ben, she wants it. Do you see her shaking? It's because she wants you so bad."

Ben groans, loud and long, and his hands slip a little, pulling her down a little farther than she's used to. She chokes as he thrusts again, the bitter, warm liquid flooding her mouth. Her stomach is jumping as she swallows, trying to work her throat around him, her hands fisted tightly against the bed as she struggles not to choke on it all. _God,_ she thinks dimly, choking again as he pants through his orgasm, still holding her head down on his cock. _God, I could die like this and it'd be fuckin' great._

"Easy, easy," Mike murmurs, as Ben shakes through to the end, immediately pulling out of her mouth and collapsing down on his knees. She coughs, swallowing over and over, gasping as she catches her breath, with Ben's hands still holding her up. "She's alright. Aren't you? She took it just fine."

"Sorry, I'm sorry," Ben murmurs, running his hand through her hair. Bev swallows a few more times, yelping a little when Mike moves behind her, pulling her back and steadying her with his cock still inside her. She laughs a little and turns her head for a kiss. There's come all over her chin, God. She probably looks like a porn star. "Was it too rough? Are you still good?"

"I'm good," Bev says, her voice scraped raw. "That was so hot, baby. Jesus." She yips again when Mike thrusts, hard, pulling her back by her hips. Ben laughs, flushed and still amazed, and kneels more fully against the bed, bracing her shoulders with his hands. "Mike, oh my God - "

"I feel like I'm dreaming," Mike says, dazed, inching forward with his knees and thrusting inside of her again. "That was the hottest thing I've ever seen. Jesus, Ben, you look amazing when you come."

"Thanks, man," Ben says, a little sheepishly, and Bev laughs, feeling a little unhinged. She hasn't come yet. Has she? It's getting hard to tell. 

"Fuck me," she slurs, pressing her face against Ben's strong shoulder. Behind her, Mike speeds up again, rubbing one big hand down around her waist to touch her clit. She breathes out hard, latching her mouth onto Ben's skin, and moans. "Fuck me, fuck me - "

"Yeah," Mike says mindlessly, thrusting harder. Bev holds onto Ben, listening to him murmuring nonsense in her ear, and takes it. 

"We can do it again, can't we?" Ben murmurs, helping to hold her steady as Mike fucks her, speeding up as he nears his own orgasm. Bev can hear him grunting, losing control of his voice a little. "On the boat. Easier on the boat. Mike's never fucked you the normal way. I could watch him do it. He could watch us. Right? You want him to eat you out, sweetheart? Or both of us, again, like - "

Her own orgasm takes her by surprise, pushed over the edge by Mike's fingers against her clit and Ben's voice in her ear. She can hear Mike cry out too, his hand flying away and back to her hips to hold her steady as he pulses inside of her, a dampened sort of warmth that mostly just feels strange with the condom. Bev pants against Ben's neck, wilting a little as he pets her hair, feeling Mike bend down to curve around her back, still inside of her. All three of them start breathing in unison, and Bev's mind goes hazy again, her body rubbery and loose, her mouth almost numb. She feels amazing. She feels weird. She feels like she's never felt before in her life. She'd thought she was done, discovering new ways to feel. Turns out that's something that never stops coming, though. 

Bev lets them push and pull her again, just floating pleasantly as Mike pulls out of her, pressing kisses against her back as he does. Ben rolls her onto her back and into a bear hug, holding her tightly like he does when she goes totally out of it like this, and she dimly feels Mike tugging the blankets up around her gently. She hears them talking to each other: _no stay, it's alright, the bed's big enough, I don't want to intrude,_ and she blinks her eyes open, lifting her hand up towards Mike, looming over them next to the bed. 

"Come on, you bastard," she mumbles, and grapples for his hand. He laughs, letting her have it, and gently flops down onto the bed next to them, arranging himself carefully so he doesn't lean on her hair. 

The world is very big and very small, she thinks, pulling them both closer until she's boxed in on both sides. The world is so very big, and so very tiny, and so is her heart, which is both good and bad at the same time. The ugly parts of herself can lie there just fine next to the good ones, and she doesn't have to feel ashamed. Romance is subjective, after all. 

"Is she alright?" she hears Mike ask. "Should we get her water, or…?"

"She just needs to be held," Ben explains. She hums a little, still drifting, pressing her cheek against Ben's arm. Mike's rubbing her other hand in both of his, gently, and that feels really nice too. "It's alright, man, you didn't hurt her. I promise. She just gets a little out of it, but she's fine."

"I would never," Mike says, sounding a little overwhelmed. 

"I know. We know."

"Thank you for this. I don't even know how to thank you." She feels Mike pull away one of his hands and turns her head to watch him wipe his eyes, his shoulders shuddering a little against the blankets. 

"Mike," Ben says very seriously, "it's not like that. It's not a _favor_. We just wanted to be with you."

Mike nods, and sighs, a loud, long, exhalation of breath. Bev hums a little, squeezing his hand, and he leans his head down against the pillow, kissing her shoulder gently. 

"Stay," Ben says, a little quieter. She watches, her head lolling against the pillow, as he leans over her and nuzzles Mike's face. She sees them kiss again. When Ben pulls away Mike's eyes are still bright and wet, his palm pressed against his forehead. "Just stay."

"Alright," Mike murmurs, unsteadily. 

"We'll make you breakfast."

 _We love you,_ Bev thinks, reaching out to gently touch Mike's chest. He relaxes a little more into the bed, his eyes closing briefly as he settles, sharing her pillow. 

"Waffles," Mike says, after a long minute. 

Bev manages a sleepy smile, aimed in his direction. "Whatever you want," she says.

**Author's Note:**

> hi i'm very high and i wrote this in five hours, please don't make fun of me. come say hi at twitter i'm @avocadomooon


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